M U R D E R E R

  ❝   I WOULD SOONER TAKE A BULLET TO THE KNEE  than pass the time with you  &  your supremely large ego.  i’m not interested in being here, james             i think i’ve made that clear enough.    ❞      // @slaughterdeco.

“ Is that what you’d call it?                                   Suffering? ” 

                        No. Suffering was existence without substance. Eating without tasting, touching without feeling. Watching as one’s own wife led lover after lover into her chambers-- sparing him only a DAY out of the entire MONTH.

“Yes...” Teeth are clenched tight, forced into a pearly smile. It’s nether the coarse language or attitude that ruffles his feathers-- rather the diction. Far too similar to that of the people he had grown up around... c'est la vie! If he could warm to Irene Wuornos then this woman should be nothing new.

             “I take that to mean you like it? Quite the old fashion, you know! Men these days have taken to much slimmer fare, when I’ve always been of mind that the bigger the lapels the bigger the presence.

    “The workings of the late Agatha Christie come to mind! Why, you had every feasible REASON a detached and greedy wife could want to murder her husband. Money, independence, the hotel-- All save one I would have given you with my hands tied behind my back had you ONLY asked.

  DRY LAUGHTER REVERBERATED in her chest, a HYENA’S voice taking place of her own. Men all wanted something: be it the HOLY GROUND between her legs or the money she’d locked away in the bank, wolves always bit and took what they could take, and Mother Mary was eager to GIVE. “My story. Well, I’ll tell you what – We can make a TRADE.” And like a collector eyeing their prized possession, dull eyes lit up like a Christmas tree: the sudden switch astounding. Yes, she found this gentleman agreeable: something found in a history book; full of antiquated charm no  man could dream of possessing in this day and age. AUTOMATONS, the lot of them: tin soldiers she could knock down with a glance. This one was made of stronger stuff, it seemed.

  “It’s not terribly long, nor terribly interesting. Everything to do with the HEART you see. It’s an INFERNAL organ, always breaking and bleeding at the slightest tremor.” A pause; she sipped at her drink thoughtfully, savouring the slow burn that rippled down her throat. “Have you ever been in love?”

          A PAUSE. Though his face remains the mask of charming joviality-- there’s that HORRIDLY familiar phrase uttered from the other side of the lounge. It takes a great deal of inward will not to bite his knuckle to keep from mouthing them. Not to turn around with the look of jealousy, of murderous rage that boiled within him. How fitting, just as this woman would ask that SHE would find another!

...Jawline for days...